


This is all A's fault and don't let anyone tell you otherwise

by Fallowsthorn



Series: Chatfic & Other Miscellaneous Errata [2]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Touch-Starved, Unfinished and Potentially Dead, chat fic, oversensitization, unsatisfactory ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallowsthorn/pseuds/Fallowsthorn
Summary: It's like a wannabe PWP. It's not-very-good porn with a plot outline, so it's like two left halves of something workable.





	1. The part with the porn

**Author's Note:**

> Presented in chronological order. All of my friend's texts are preceded by "A" on the line above; mine are unmarked. Note that there's rather a lot of all caps.

Me: Like i know i fucked up and didn't say shit to maxwell but my assumption is that it's canon bc it's in the game

A:  
ALSO IF YOU DO ANY PORN FICS FOR THESE GUYS PLZ PLZ LEMME READ  
FJISJXJS HIS LINES APPARENTLY AREN'T PLOT-CRITICAL DON'T WORRY LOL

So i can see wilson, having been through hell, listening to this guy, and, fuck, seeing him for the actual first time when he's not like unconscious or w/e  
And going, wow, he's hot and also miserable

A  
HE'S NOT WRONG

Like he weighs wilson setting him free and just fucking sticking around equally

LOOK I JUST WANT THE FIC WHERE WILSON'S LIKE, BUDDY FUCK THAT SHIT IMMA FIX THIS WITH SCIENCE!, AND SETS UP A LAB RIGHT THERE OR SOMETHING  
And maxwell obv starts out going, this isn't going to work, do you think I'm an idiot  
Idk how much control he's supposed to have over the shadows, even

A  
THAT IS KINDA GREY- I THINK FANDOM JUST ASSUMES THAT HE CAN MAKE THEM BE OR DO WHATEVER HE WANTS EXCEPT LET HIM GO

Hmm, but it seems more interesting  
Eithe tie them to his mental health, his practice with the ability, or both  
Both, both is good

A  
I'M EXTRAPOLATING THE "DO/BE WHATEVER HE WANTS" BECAUSE THEY'RE SO OFTEN USED FOR FUCKING IN FAN STUFF  
does it help that he first started using the shadows as magic show pieces, and they got out of control, which ended up causing his bg for Don't Starve? And they lower sanity in general for other people?

So that as wilson hangs around he /does/ gain more control over them and more... conscious control  
That does make more sense

A  
OOOOH

I thought he had taken over the throne from somebody else, and that was how he knew what the deal was

A  
The codex umbra is a tome he like  
Found in the woods after a train crash  
Then he played with too much power  
Rip

But the shadows are kind of like an octopus' limbs, right, like if he's not paying attention they kinda do their own thing

A  
That seems sensible tho  
You just didn't scour google like I did for any backstory I could find (I'm angry about the dearth lol)

I'll read up on the wiki

A  
I could see that being a thing, yeah! We don't have info on that specifically but it makes sense- they were originally their own willed, magical things anyway so 

So once he kind of grudgingly gets on board with whatever Wilson's doing, even though he can't really move much, he can still kind of use the shadows as a physical presence  
Which amazingly does actually start out with innocuous intentions

But maxwell has got to be epically starved for interaction of any sort, but touch most of all

A  
OMG SO TRUE

Esp since wilson is _right there,_ being generally charming and amicable and clever, and maxwell is the subbiest sub who ever subbed, so he just fucking like, takes it as given that his entire focus starts revolving around wilson, like, he's not even surprised

A  
YEEEEEEES

And of course he doesn't say anything, because that's a real great conversation starter: "hey so i know i basically tortured you and previously had zero compunctions about trapping you in hell potentially forever so that i could finally die, but I've been thinking about it and i desperately want you to hug me and maybe let me worship you a little"

And also because if wilson fucks off, so do maxwell's chances of... doing literally anything, basically  
So ha ha we will just keep that to ourselves  
Which lasts about a week  
Since "oh, i want _that_ " is not a revelation that comes temptation-free

Wilson's not oblivious entirely to maxwell's thoughts here, but I'm willing to bet he does quite guess at the extent  
*doesn’t quite

And naturally the shadows are getting handsier too

And there's one point where wilson has gotten so used to having this like five-armed incredibly affectionate lab assistant that he feels one of the hands on his back and leans his weight into it without thinking

Maxwell maybe forgets how to speak for a little

He can't feel anything through the shadows but he can see what is literally happening in front of him

And wilson catches the reaction but not really the meaning behind it - thinks it's just that he trusts maxwell and maxwell's abilities and is just _comfortable_ with him (and how deep that runs would - make more of a difference if this wasn't a consent trainwreck)

Eventually Wilson starts noticing that the shadows are basically never out of contact with him, because Maxwell is pretty good at this but he's not a fucking saint, and starts teasing Maxwell about "wanting to cuddle"

And Maxwell - _blushes_ and takes like ten seconds too long to have literally any other reaction, and Wilson goes, oh, and several things make more sense

He comes closer and notes with some amusement that he is actually very slightly taller than Maxwell like this, with him standing

Kind of unsure at first because /what in the fuck am i doing/, but he reaches out and lays a hand on Maxwell's cheek, with his thumb along the line of the bone

Maxwell closes his eyes and hyperfocuses on it, he can't not, another living person's skin against his own, and oh it's warm, with only the shadows to touch he'd forgotten - and it seems idiotic to have forgotten that _body heat_ is a thing

A  
YAAAAAAAAAAAAS

But here they are and it's almost too much and not nearly enough, just that tiny point of contact

Maxwell doesn’t open his eyes until Wilson makes a noise, barely a sound, he wouldn’t have heard it if they weren't so close

The shadows have wrapped themselves around Wilson's chest and waist and hips, not uncomfortably tight but stubborn enough that Wilson couldn't extricate himself if he wanted to

Maxwell sort of distantly realizes that he should be horrified, but everything is hazy with endorphins and oxytocin, so he gets about as far as just staring without any of the subsequent steps

It helps - sort of - that Wilson seems fine with this, he's moved closer, even, and his pulse is still steady - Maxwell's is not

Maxwell wets his lips so he can speak and the edge of his tongue catches the heel of Wilson's hand

They both take the same startled breath at the same time - Wilson's of a sudden awareness of Maxwell's mouth, and Maxwell's of - that he had forgotten too what humans taste like, salt and clay and metal

Somewhere in the back of Maxwell's mind is a small voice screaming YOU'RE GOING TO FUCK IT UP but the thing about that is it's a very small voice

And anyway it's Wilson who kisses him first - not very neatly either, and he almost overbalances and has to jam one of his knees between Maxwell's, on the edge of the throne, to correct for it  
So - there's space between them, but not a whole hell of a lot

The shadows recede a little, rearrange themselves more comfortably  
Maxwell is paying zero attention to them but hasn't thought to banish them either

They also have far fewer reservations than he does, so of the two of them the shadows are the first to coil and pool around Wilson's hip and between his legs

Wilson jolts and hums into Maxwell's mouth and then laughs a little because this is really not how he imagined his day would go, but what the hell, right?

And I'm gonna be mean and leave you there because i need to eat something

Ok so making out plus grabby shadow tentacles, what's not to like

Wilson is pretty into this plan - it's not like anyone else is around and at any rate he's always been bad at turning down things he wants

He realizes he still has a hand free and runs it down Maxwell's chest, getting briefly distracting by the smock... thing... what is it made of, anyway, it's not cloth

Until Maxwell jerks his head back and says, "Please - please-"

Which is unique enough in its own right to get Wilson's attention, but it also sounds less like, "Please more," and more like, "Please stop," so he pulls away just far enough that Maxwell can take it from there

(And he would disentangle himself completely, except for the way the shadows balk at it and Maxwell leans forward like he's relying on Wilson to continue to fucking _breathe_ )

It takes a few ragged seconds for Maxwell to bite out, "Too much - at once, it was, I haven't," and some other sentence fragments and Wilson is so relieved it was _too much_ and not _too far_ that he kisses Maxwell again, sweeter this time

He didn't quite let go of Maxwell but his hand slipped down to the join of his throat and shoulder, so he can feel all the muscles there practically melt

The shadows curl up closer to him, as far as that's actually possible, and Wilson would desperately like to straddle this conveniently enticing lap right in front of him, but he doesn't have a working definition of "too much,"

So he shifts his weight back a little and asks Maxwell straight out, "what do you want?"  
Maxwell momentarily loses the ability to want anything, much less articulate it

Wilson waits, patient, and puts a little more of his weight onto the helpful shadows because he's been basically standing on one leg for the last ten minutes

From somewhere that used to be eloquent, Maxwell dredges up, "Touch... me... please?" Each word is clearly its own novel idea, and he doesn’t seem to enjoy having admitted to it

Wilson straightens up some and puts his palm flat on Maxwell's chest, avidly watching the visceral, shuddering reaction this provokes

"That's not a bad thing to want," he says, quietly and a little puzzled. Sure, he's put together how utterly lonely this place is and the fact that the shadows aren't - substantial, but he had assumed Maxwell had gotten to adulthood the usual way and interacted positively with another human before.

Maxwell's blush is dancing vibrant fire across his face. A part of Wilson remarks that he wouldn't have guessed Maxwell would blush so easily, but, well. He's not exactly a monk himself.

Since this is getting them nowhere and is rapidly becoming an awkward hell, Wilson decides to change tactics. "Tell me where you want me to put myself, and I will." He holds up one hand to illustrate.

Maxwell regards him with the same keen lucidity he had when Wilson saw him for the first time.

"I have a vested interest," Wilson points out dryly. And a shirted interest, a pantsed interest, and an underclothesed interest, but that much is blatantly obvious so he doesn't bother saying it

"Move your knee up," Maxwell says slowly. "No, on the other - yes, like that-" and so on until Wilson is sitting with his knees to either side of Maxwell's hips and is... giving him a hug, as far as he can tell.

Both of them are hard, but despite the kissing Wilson isn't sure if Maxwell wants to do anything about that, so he assumes the other man's not an idiot and will tell him if that's the case, and if not, there's plenty of space to give them both some privacy

Maxwell has buried his face in Wilson's shoulder and is... shivering? almost? But he resettles and reciprocates as much as he can, and uses his shadows where he can't. If he closes his eyes he can feel Wilson's heart beating and when he breathes he can feel Wilson's pulse against his lips, and something clicks into place and suddenly it's so, so easy.

"I want to make you feel good," he tells Wilson, or at least Wilson's neck. "I want you to," /take care of me/ sounds wrong, "-to help me-" also wrong, but he's said it already. "I need - I /want/," he corrects, because he knows exactly what he needs in this wasteland and it's not all that much, "I want to give you important things, I want to help you, I want to be your - your-" He can't find the word for it, this sweeping encompassing desire - is aware of the implications of that - doesn't have the room to care.

A  
KDKCAKXKAKKZKAKS  
I LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH  
MAXWELL YOU TOTAL SUB AAAAAH  
AND WILSON HAS SUCH A GOOD PERSONALITY FOR A DOM BECAUSE HE //PAYS ATTENTION// AND FIGURES THINGS OUT

HA HA NOT ENOUGH ATTENTION BUT WE'LL GET THERE IN A BIT

A  
HAHAHAHAH I BELIEVE IN THEM

I WOULD JUST LIKE TO POINT OUT THAT REGARDLESS OF ANYTHING ELSE MAXWELL LITERALLY HIT SUBSPACE FROM BEING HUGGED  
DUDE HAS ZERO CHILL  
I WASN'T REALLY SURE WHERE ANY OF THAT WAS GOING BUT IT TURNED OUT OKAY

A  
HAHAHAHAH HE REALLY HAS NO CHILL IT TRUE

"Mine," Wilson says, low and experimental. Maxwell makes a choked noise and clutches at him. Interesting. And, if he's honest with himself, fascinating and not wholly unexpected.

He licks at the side of Maxwell's neck, just under his jaw, asking for permission.

"Go slow," Maxwell says. "Let me acclimate."

Wilson hums a little to show he's heard and works a hand between them to tug at the tunic-smock-thing and his own less confusing clothes. His own waistcoat and shirt he undoes without much trouble, but the lack of any kind of fasten on whatever Maxwell's wearing eventually forces him to lean back and kneel up a little so he can see what the fuck he's doing

It takes Maxwell a second to get it, but when he does he laughs and spreads his legs apart some. Wilson makes a frustrated noise and grabs at the hem of the thing, rucking it up far enough that he can explore what's underneath. Maxwell's laughter cuts off abruptly and becomes a small, unconscious moan.

What's underneath turns out to be... damp? And sticky? Wilson gives Maxwell a confused look and feels around some more, to the distraction of both of them. Yep, that is definitely a penis, so what...?

"I, um," Maxwell says, which is remarkable largely in that Wilson can't remember him saying 'um' before, "when I stopped you, earlier... that was why."

Wilson isn't sure whether to be surprised that Maxwell came just from what would, on anyone else, be a slight tease at most - though in retrospect, the man is the opposite of desensitized - or that he _didn't notice_. He splits the difference and goes with nonplussed. "But you're still..." he says, and wraps his hand around what's _still_ for emphasis. Too much emphasis: Maxwell writhes and Wilson nearly falls on his ass.

As it is, the shadows are holding him up. A couple thin tendrils take the opportunity to sneak under his waistband; he ignores them for the most part, though he has a feeling that solution isn't going to work in the long run.

"Yes," Maxwell says, once neither of them are in danger of accidentally convulsing. In a more clinical tone, he adds, "I don't seem to have a refractory period in any meaningful sense; I suspect the throne takes it as an abnormal state."

_"Don't you,"_ says Wilson. He grins. It might be on the predatory side.

Of course, the obvious problem with that idea is it probably falls firmly into the realm of "too much at once," no matter how much his dick likes it. Wilson realizes this at the same time Maxwell does, and hastily adds, "Later, maybe."

That has its own implications, but give him a break, he's trying.

Whatever momentum they had is stone dead, but the shadows, previously content to explore over Wilson's clothes, insert their objection into both the proto-conversation and Wilson's pants. He stiffens in surprise but relaxes a second later, when it's clear they're not going to do much more than they were already.

Maxwell, though, stills them, alarmed. "I can banish them."

Wilson tilts his head. An offer, not an apology. Hmm. "How good is your control?" No, he knows the answer to that. "Or - what do you want?"

(I should note that Maxwell, like me, has two settings: "blushing shy virgin" and "I sext my friends porn at midnight" with nothing in between. He has at this point become entrenched in the latter.)

A  
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHA

Maxwell takes a moment to consider the question, then says, "I want to make you feel so good that you tell me to stop."

Wilson stares at him and wonders why they haven't been doing this for like a month now.

A  
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA  
FAIR, WILSON

The shadows move again, more deliberately now; one curls delicately around his cock, while the others move back to help him balance. He squirms in appreciation and leans forward to kiss Maxwell, slow and languid. One of Maxwell's hands lands on his hip and mimics the motion of the shadow.  
Wilson realizes he's still wearing his pants, and fixes that

I hate this part of writing porn because i get to about here and stop being interested in the proceedings so my brain just goes "and then they fucked and it sure was nice" and argh, no, that is not tonally consistent

A  
HAHAHAHA it's k  
You could leave it for later if you'd like  
MAXWELL'S ALREADY HAD A GREAT TIME TBH

I need to get better at writing orgasms from 3rd person limited pov  
Lmao just put some exclamation marks in there  
Seems legit

A  
HAHAHAHAHAHAH  
IT WORKS IN COMICS

HAHAHAHHAHAHA

Honestly what i have left is Wilson coming, then saying essentially "let me put my mouth on your cock pls" and it's the sex scene equivalent of warm molasses  
Also they get rid of the tunic smock thing

A  
HAHAHAHAHHA THE WINTER COAT HE WEARS?

No, at the end of the game when you meet him for real he's got this gray hospital gown sort of thing on

It's ugly af and probably magic since he's been there long enough that whatever he started out wearing probably disintegrated

A  
AHHHH RIGHT  
it has the same collar as the winter coat so I think it's the coat like morphed into one tunic thing  
It's kind of the progression of chapter 1 -> chapter 5 and then some


	2. The one with the plot outline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fuck the formatting, also this has a bunch of rambling in between relevant parts but i can't quite figure out how to cut it so it still makes sense

Ok but my don't starve feels, let me show them to you  
Where is the 30k slow burn fic where wilson stays in that little eden area in Two Worlds for like a couple months minimum  
7:29 PM  
A  
AAAAAAAAAA I'VE WANTED ONE OF THOSE TOOOOO  
IT HAS SUCH POTENTIAL  
HE CAN FINALLY BREATHE AND REFLECT ON THINGS AND THINGS CAN *HAPPEN*  
7:31 PM  
And Maxwell winds up visiting because he was not really expecting Wilson to take him up on it but ok  
And also he's bored out of his fucking skull  
7:31 PM  
A  
HHHHHHHHHHH YEEEES  
7:32 PM  
YO I WANT THE THING THAT MAKES THE PLOT GO BACK ON THE RAILS TO BE  
Maxwell turning up looking progressively more fucked up, in a bad way, because it turns out  
7:33 PM  
'They' have been more or less giving him a choice of making life harder for Wilson or getting tortured for a while  
7:34 PM  
And he won't say jack about it but wilson eventually figures the general shape of it out and decides to Do Something About It  
Actually this meshes pretty well with that porn thing from earlier  
7:37 PM  
A  
AAAAAAH ;A;  
7:37 PM  
If i write this I'm blaming you  
7:38 PM  
The ending i guess would just segue into dst? Minus a couple steps in the middle?  
Idk i don't really have an ending,  
Just the middle  
7:41 PM  
A  
PLEASE BLAME ME I ACCEPT BLAME IT'S BEAUTIFUL  
I COULD DEF SEE IT SEGUE  
7:42 PM  
That or try to handwave a meat effigy getting trapped  
7:43 PM  
If it was Dramatic enough it could work  
7:44 PM  
A  
I COULD SEE IT  
AS LONG AS THEY HAVE EACH OTHER I'M TERRIBLE AT PROPERLY HOLDING PLOTS RESPONSIBLE  
7:51 PM  
God damn just on ao3 the choices seem to be AU or rapefest  
I might have to write it just to fix this  
7:59 PM  
A  
I FUCKING HATE A03'S SELECTION  
SORRY I COULD'VE WARNED YOU  
I FIRST LOOKED THERE WHEN I GOT INTERESTED IN THE SHIP MONTHS AGO AND I GOT SO DISCOURAGED I FLITTED AWAY  
IT WAS ONLY IN FINDING DIETCLOUD AND SUCH AND I PLAYED THE ORIGINAL GAME THAT I STARTED SINKING BACK IN   
8:00 PM  
IT'S OKAY either way you get fic so  
8:04 PM  
PLEASE IGNORE BOTH THE TITLE AND SUMMARY OF THIS FIC   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/8825668  
8:09 PM  
A  
AAAAAAAAAAH WHY DO THEY HIDE THESE THINGS  
8:22 PM  
Also the obligatory trans fic isn't bad. It's not great either, or finished, but it's ok  
I KNOW I NEED LIKE THE NEXT CHAPTER OF THAT  
8:23 PM  
UGH WHAT HATH THOU WROUGHT UPON MINE BRAIN  
8:24 PM  
A  
I LOVE THIS SHIP SO MUUUCH ;u; *rains kink upon it like confetti*  
I have an okay initially-dubcon one I can link you as well  
It's got Shadow!Wilson which naturally the fanfic translates to Dom!Wilson  
8:30 PM  
I can't outright choose a fave between Wilson or Maxwell being sub   
They go so well for different reasons   
8:31 PM  
in my headcanon maxwell is a sub and wilson is a switch who leans dom  
sure, link?  
8:32 PM  
A  
http://dietcloud.tumblr.com/post/143696128319/a-little-bit-of-discipline-doesnt-hurt  
8:37 PM  
oh that one!  
i have read it, it's on ao3 too  
writing's a little clunky for me but if it improves later i'll give it another shot  
8:38 PM  
A  
Ohhh huh

Yeahhh idk what anyone plans on going back to  
Hopefully dst's growing success will draw new interest 8U  
8:39 PM  
likely it'll always be a small fandom  
i feel a tad guilty for it but i do like being a big fish in a small pond  
or, well, a mid-sized fish anyway  
8:40 PM  
A  
I like being able to comfortably peruse the perimeter of a fandom without getting winded or pouring too much time into it

I don't feel like I'm missing out or it's gone too mainstream or I'm overlooking something if I have a good sense of what it has and how far it extends   
8:42 PM  
lol you have reasons and shit  
i just like attention  
i mean your reasons are good ones  
8:43 PM  
A  
Aww, I consider attention a good reason XD   
8:43 PM  
XD thanks m8  
btw as the official Asshole Who Dragged Me Into This Hell you have signed yourself up to beta this fic  
8:44 PM  
A  
HAHAHAHAH YOU GOT IT CAPTAIN *salute*  
8:45 PM  
anyway, i have written like a page  
oh, but imagine wilson trying to be a nice Nightmare King  
46 min  
i kind of got the sense that maxwell isn't a dick because he thinks it's fun, he makes life hard because he's some combination of being forced to and choosing the less bad option  
45 min  
A  
Awwww ;-;  
45 min  
so imagine wilson going, "ok i'm gonna Do It Right"  
and the shadow beings are like Ha Ha No  
it would be... quite the landscape  
43 min  
A  
I feel like at first it could be very much a monkey's paw or One Ring scenario where it starts off looking okay but then somehow it's each Wrong™  
43 min  
yeah, like i could see the shadow/demon thing "infecting" him over time  
or like, the slippery slope of trade-offs  
42 min  
A  
Yeahhhh!  
42 min  
eg "well, there's plenty of food around, so maybe he won't mind if it gets dark early" and so on  
41 min  
trying to balance between the shadows fucking him over and him not fucking maxwell over  
idk either  
40 min  
and then eventually just fucking - what who said that  
39 min  
A  
HAHAHAHA I WAS BOUT TO SAY  
"WELL FUCKING MAXWELL OVER IN /SOME/ CAPACITIES..."  
39 min  
i feel like wilson would ultimately be better at running the place because he's clever enough to see the gaps between "what the shadow demons think is bad" and "what maxwell thinks is bad" and how to exploit the middle bit  
well, clever enough and willing to ask and not like  
insane from isolation  
38 min  
A  
Does the middle bit involve bondage and discipline   
I mean what  
37 min  
lmao it's aliens made them do it except instead of aliens it's shadow demons that don't understand BDSM  
37 min  
idk, idt maxwell would be big on the bondage. maybe shibari or something, would fit his aesthetic, but i don't see him getting much out of actually not being able to move  
both because of the throne thing and because, idk, he just doesn't strike me that way  
maybe if wilson was interested, but otherwise *shrug*  
...you know, on second thought  
he probably doesn't get much out of rope and physical bondage  
but he can and will like jizz in his pants from being told to stay in place and Not Move  
No Matter What  
for some reason i headcanon maxwell with a huuuuuuuuuge praise kink  
he just wants to be told he's a good boy and he's doing it right  
idk where this came from because afaict there is zero canon evidence to support this  
31 min  
A  
IDK WHERE IT CAME FROM BUT I SUPPORT IT ENTIRELY  
26 min  
what the fuck do you make a science machine out of  
gold, logs  
flint or rocks?  
26 min  
A  
And rocks  
26 min  
k  
25 min  
A  
I COULD SEE THE PRAISE KINK AS LIKE   
Maybe from the desire for attention and acclaim as a magician   
Maybe it carries over naturally for him   
25 min  
ooh  
i mean it's all endorphins in the end  
24 min  
A  
RIGHT  
24 min  
i can see him having like  
a somewhat-hidden kink for impressing people  
like not so much a kink in and of itself as  
he just really likes it  
like, ykwim?  
23 min  
A  
YEAH TOTALLY   
23 min  
where it's not goodpantsfeels so much as goodbrainfeels  
what a nerd  
22 min  
A  
HAHAHAHAAHHAA THAT'S PART OF WHY THEY'RE GREAT TOGETHER  
COMPLEMENTING NERDS  
19 min  
THEY'RE BOTH ENORMOUS DORKS I LOVE IT  
i lied i have 2.5 pages  
mostly of bullshit that i will wind up cutting, i bet  
18 min  
A  
HAHAHAHAHA I don't think I can read over things tonight, but Thursday night I probably can??  
Wednesday's are the worst days ever for me  
Wednesdays *  
17 min  
yeah no man don't worry about it  
this is like first draft mode for me, where everything i write is pure gold and i can do no wrong  
once i have a draft then it's Editing Hell Time  
i'm just giving you a heads up if you want to check it out early


	3. The one with the start of a fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all are smart enough to put the italics back where ao3 stripped 'em out, right? right. good.

“Say, pal.

“Let’s make a deal.”

Wilson came to consciousness slowly. The last three times he’d woken up, it had been sprawled flat on his back on the ground in the middle of a hostile nowhere, and though by this point he’d be a fool to expect anything different, he wasn’t exactly eager for round four.

“All I want in return is a truce.”

Wilson squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed them, and sat up, briefly wincing as his head pounded. The... person? thing? presence? that apparently served to introduce him to each of these worlds had vanished by the time he finally looked around. Really, if the man running this nonsense wanted him to understand and remember what he was saying, he might do better to say it while Wilson was actually awake.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. At least it wasn’t cold this time, though he had to squint through the glare of the sun to see his surroundings.

Which were... surprisingly... adequate. There was a tent, a firepit, both set up close to a patch of the wild berries he knew were safe to eat. Had he been dropped in the middle of someone’s camping trip?

He wondered if the camper’s body was nearby - the supplies would be convenient - ugh. Why was that his first thought.

“Goddamn island,” he muttered as he got to his feet and located the diviner-radio. “Going to murder whatever bastard invented the outdoors-”

On closer inspection, the campsite was too clean to have been anyone’s living space. The firepit was empty of ashes and the tent was empty of... well, anything, but it was more than he’d started out with earlier. A lot more.

So the real question was, what was the catch?

Hooooooooooooooooooooooo, went the radio.

“You shut up,” Wilson told it, and let himself despair for a moment that he’d begun talking to inanimate objects. He sighed and flicked it off; no use listening to it when he was going to stay here and set up camp.

He used the end of the diviner to poke around at the little area. While, yes, his smarter instincts told him to get as far away from the oh-so-convenient amenities, the truth was that he didn’t have the luxury of suspicion. He had with him a grand total of a razor, an axe, a lump of gold, a torch, and the clothes on his back. And the diviner-radio. Lord, but he wished he’d never seen the thing.

“At least if it’s a trap, it’s a comfortable one,” he thought aloud. A quick glance told him the sun was nearly straight overhead - not that there was any correlation whatsoever with the day and night cycle of this place - but it meant that his priority was food and light. Both of which were... right there.

Wilson blinked. Given the givens, he’d much rather this than nearly freezing to death in a dark snowy hellscape, but it would take some getting used to.

Of course, the obvious conclusion was that he shouldn’t get used to it, so he set about stripping the nearby bushes of ripe-looking berries and a small group of saplings, some ways to the west of the camp, of their twigs. That would have to do for fire. He did have the axe, but with the way his headache was going, he might just try slamming his head into the tree and hoping that fixed it, one way or another.

He shook his head. The twigs would be fine. He had enough of them.

The rest of the time until dusk, he spent gathering berries and wild carrots, and exploring the area around the camp in a gradually-widening spiral. He seemed to be in the thick of a temperate forest, mostly of evergreens. Ideally, he would be able to infer something about the area or the climate from this, but as it was, all it told him was that there were trees, and they were the pokey piney kind, and there were a lot of them. Some help that was.

Comparatively, the place was a paradise. No spiders, the edge of a grasslands to the north, a small clear stream to the east - hell, the birds even let him get within five feet of them before fleeing. So, yes, something nasty would probably show up after a week or two, but he could worry about that in a week or two.

There wasn’t a lot of tall grass in the forest, but he’d go further north the next day and see what he could make of it. Wilson built up a small fire as the sun began to set, and soon had the carrots he’d gathered cooking on a flat rock close to the edge. The berries he was willing to eat raw - after all, the birds did it just fine - but he wasn’t quite so reckless, or so desperate, as to put something directly from the ground into his mouth. Yet, anyway.

Not long after true darkness arrived, Wilson crawled into the tent. Just in case, he put everything in his pack and curled himself around it as (what he hoped would be) a preventative measure. Despite his reservations about the camp and the darkness, within minutes he fell into a sleep deeper than he’d had in months.

* * *

Wilson had never thought he would be so happy to describe a day as “predictable.” The grasslands to the north turned out to contain plenty of the tall, strong grass he’d gotten used to weaving with, and over a couple trips he amassed quite a pile of it back at camp. There were some bees, and the attendant acres of flowers, but the killer bee hives were few and far between enough that he almost didn’t have to worry about it. He gathered up a dozen or so (flowers, not bees), and tied them in a bouquet using the grass to make a bow at the front. Mostly for the hell of it, but they did smell nice. If he screwed up and ran out of fuel he could burn it.

The creek he’d found the previous day curved around to mark a natural border to the grasslands; on the far side the grass gradually gave way to a flat, rocky plain. He made a note to come back once he’d fashioned himself a workable pickaxe and pocketed some of the more workable rocks and flint. At least he already had the gold for a science machine.

He felled two trees, at which point his axe broke, but the branches were sturdy enough to make handles for another axe and a pickaxe, and the flint served for blades. It wasn’t a fantastically sturdy construction, but it would do for now.

By the end of the day - and it was a very long day; it seemed to be noon for four or five hours - he had a science machine up and running, several grass traps placed around the camp and baited with berries, a healthy stock of fuel, food, and building materials, and still no idea what in the hell was wrong with this place.

He knew better than to let his guard down, but sheer experience told him that the longer it took for whatever ugly thing to rear its head, the worse it was going to be.

But the camp was as safe as he could make it, and paranoia would only take him so far. The tent was still a tent, the fire was still warm, the darkness was still a horrifying black miasma that bore little resemblance to real night. Wilson didn’t go so far as to think it was normal, but nothing yet warranted more than general unease.

* * *

He’d overestimated in his guess of when the obligatory unpleasant surprise would show up. On the sixth day, he had engrossed himself in repairing some of his rabbit traps, when a voice behind him made him start and drop the trap he’d been working on.

“You know, I didn’t actually expect you to take me up on it?”

Wilson lurched to his feet and spun to face the intruder. He reached for his axe before remembering he’d left it in his tent. Damn, damn, damn. He backed up and kept a wary eye on the man.

...who, on second glance, seemed rather familiar. Not that that was necessarily a good thing.

“Who are you?” Wilson snapped.

The stranger gave a little half-bow. Hard to tell if it was sarcastic. “The Amazing Maxwell, magician extraordinaire.”

Wilson stared at him. “That doesn’t actually tell me anything,” he pointed out, in lieu of Are you a real person? Though... “You’re the one that’s there before I wake up,” he realized. “You trapped me here. You run this place?”

Maxwell just smirked.

Wilson could count on one hand the number of times he’d done something without being previously aware that he was going to do it. By all accounts he thought of himself as a reasonable person, if perhaps incautious; it came as a surprise to both Maxwell and him when he lunged for the taller man, one hand curled into a fist, intent on doing him serious harm.

What came as even more of a surprise was the result: his blow went through Maxwell as though he’d punched thin air, leaving whorls of thick black vapor that drifted for a moment before coalescing back into a human shape. 

Maxwell raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I can’t complain. Are you finished or would you like to exhaust yourself further?”

“What,” Wilson said. “What are you? What is that? Are you made of the same shadow stuff that shows up at the wooden thing? Is it the same as the thing in the dark? Why can-” He stopped. Had he imagined that flinch?

A better question: why was he letting the part of his brain that conducted science experiments run away with him?

He glanced up at the sun, mostly as an excuse. “It’ll be dark soon. Are you here to get in the way, or will you make yourself useful?”

Maxwell shrugged and stepped back a couple paces, so that he was no longer obstructing the clearing in the center of camp. Charming.

Wilson rolled his eyes and collected the half-trap he’d been working on. He’d have to see if there were any spiders at all on the island, maybe further to the south. Silk would be much easier to work with, even if he could only gather enough to patch a few holes. Even then, the tent was probably a higher priority; some small animal had torn the seam, trying to find food, and jamming a heavy rock over the hole to patch it wasn’t going to work for long.

“You know, you’ve gotten further than anyone else,” Maxwell said conversationally.

“Mm?” Wilson took the extra straw out of his mouth, forgetting to be annoyed. “What do you mean?”

“Only a few people make it to the first world, much less the fourth of five. Most don’t even make it past their first night. You’re very interesting.”

“A serial killer with way too many resources thinks I’m interesting,” Wilson said, deadpan. “I’m honored. Does that mean you’re here to kill me personally, instead of waiting for the environment to do it?”

Maxwell looked affronted. “I meant what I said. This half of the world is as safe as I could make it. There’s gold, food, pigs, whatever you want or need. I don’t actually want to kill you. Observe: you should light a fire now if you’re going to do it at all.”

Wilson looked west, swore under his breath, and threw together a small fire in record time. Maxwell drifted closer as Wilson coaxed a steadier blaze onto a few logs, though he stayed at the edge of the light.

Wilson noticed. “The thing in the dark won’t hurt you?”

“She tries not to.”

“It’s a she? How do you know?”

“She-” Maxwell stopped, started again. “Before - she used to be human. So did I.”

Wilson had just enough self-preservation to bite down on the question, Did you fuck her over too? and substitute in, “You look human enough.”

Maxwell gave him a look - Wilson couldn’t read his expression in the dark - then stepped forward suddenly and thrust his hand into the fire. Automatically, Wilson tried to stop him, but came up short when he saw Maxwell’s hand simply disappear into trailing blackness. Point made, Maxwell straightened, his hand reforming as he withdrew it.

Wilson looked away. Something about that looked wrong, unpleasantly so. His curiosity quickly got the better of him. “Can you touch anything like that? Can you walk through walls? Does gravity affect you?”

“Why do you care,” Maxwell said, not angrily but as though he didn’t understand the questions.

“You’re new and interesting,” Wilson said promptly, then reflected that maybe he should have thought that answer through a little more. “If you don’t like it you could always let me go and then I wouldn’t be asking you anything.”

Maxwell laughed. It was not a nice sound. “If I could do that neither of us would be in this predicament in the first place.”

Huh. The more Maxwell spoke, the further he kept straying from the previous assumptions Wilson had made about his captor. ‘Neither of us,’ hmm?

They both lapsed into silence. Wilson watched the fire, and when it began to get low, he stood and stretched. “If you want to keep it going, you can, but I need to sleep.”

He was almost to the tent when Maxwell said, “Charlie.”

“Hmm?”

An expansive gesture. “The - ‘thing in the dark’. Her name was Charlie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then i ran out of words. That was the end of that scene, though. I suck at slow burn.


End file.
